Buffet for bullies?

Now here's an etiquette question you don't get to mull over often: What to serve a bully and his dad trying to do the right thing?

Do I buy bagels and cream cream cheese? Is lox going too far? Put out fruit? Or take that extra step and make a fruit platter? Just grind some more beans to perk a fresh pot of coffee? By the time I came downstairs, a spread was out, courtesy of my husband, but that was for my son's pals who slept over. Now we're moving into foreign territory.

We've had our first case of bullying in our household. Much has been made of bullying since cyber-bullying was linked to several teen suicides. This was the old fashioned kind: a 10th grader, with the bulk of a defensive lineman, went after my son, a sixth grader who might as well have gossamer wings, since he has the hollow frame of your average wood nymph.
The incident happened at our local park, an exquisite piece of green with a rose garden, a memorial to our neighbors lost on 9/11, a playground, a pond and a community center. By day, it's moms and nannies and toddlers, by nights, idiotic teenagers who think parents and police don't know where they drink and have sex. After school, it's often a mix of older residents taking walks, and anyone who wants to enjoy this beautiful space.


From what I have been able to gather: the older boy grabbed my son's backpack and tossed it into a tree. This is impressive because his backpack weighs a ton. The backpack-heaver's buddy on a bike then went after my son.

Despite a high IQ and an annoying ability to deduce everything to logical terms, my allegdy gifted and talented son did not seek a police officer, go to an adult and ask help, run into one of the dozens of small mom-and-pop stores that line our downtown, call home or call the police.

Nope, he called his sister -- three times, each time more hysterical. She happens to be a clasmmate of backpack-thrower. My son assumed, correctly, that she was with her boyfriend, who is older and far tougher than bully and that he would teach bully a lesson.

Then matters devolved. Boyfriend and sister come to rescue. Just before sixth grade son amasses army of eighth graders to retrieve his backpack. Then, again not exercising keen thinking, he walks the mile or so home, alone.

But lack of straight thinking was contagious that day. Strapping boyfriend gets out of his car. His presence and anger alone would have scared most bullies into swearing off a life of bad behavior. But boyfriend grabbed tire iron from his car. Big mistake. He swears he just wanted to scare bully. He did not use tire iron. Daughter begs him to not take tire iron.

He does not get far. Within seconds, three police cars are on scene. This is one of those towns where not a lot of street crime happens. And the police know that Friday afternoons, the middle school pretty much empties in the downtown. Police know the kids and knew the boyfriend.

They confiscated tire iron, and let him go with a warning. Daughter and son come home separately and tell scarily similar story. My reaction is visceral: I want to beat up bully, not making me much better. And, I have to admit I love the boyfriend's reaction. I come from a notoriously tough neighborhood and when someone bigger has your back, you are okay. I had already liked this kid, now I adored him. But my husband, who comes from the sort of town in which we now live, did see the other side of this: grabbing a tire iron was evidence of poor judgment. We had a Serious Talk. We all agreed.

I thought it was over. Though friends insisted I had to call the principals of the middle school (to warn about this child) and of the high school (to turn him in) this was not done on school property, so it was not their concern. Just as I felt this was calming down, the detective assigned to the case called. Did we want to press charges? No.

Now, it had to be over. Nope. Father of the bully called the next day. He is a lovely man and insisting that his son do the right thing so he wanted to bring him over to apologize.

I genuinely hope if I ever find myself in his unenviable position, I would do the same. And as the mother of a teen and a tween, all I have learned is that I don't know what's coming next, but I have to try to meet it with grace and honor. Not always easy.

And so they came over this morning. We decided to not make this awkward situation worse or try to make it something it was not. No bagel buffet, no fruit platters, no freshly perked coffee.

We sat opposite one another in our living room. This boy who has about 150 pounds on my son, studied our scuffed wooden floor. My son, who was doing his best to shrink into the sofa, just sat there. The bully apologized, my son accepted. The boyfriend knows he can't settle disputes with a tire iron.

If I have this dad over again, and I would like to, I am putting out a nice spread.